He exhaled, irritation evident in the way his nostrils flared.
“Don Julián, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Rosa is gone. I’m allowed to start over.”
His eyes flicked to the girls, a flicker of contempt passing through them.
“And your daughters?”
He gestured toward the children, his hand moving in a lazy arc that made it look like he was shooing away flies.
“My new girlfriend isn’t raising three children who barely listen to me. You’re their grandfather. If you care so much, then take them.”
A few relatives lowered their heads, shoulders slumping. My godmother pressed a hand to her mouth, the sound of a muffled sob lost in the wind. Even the priest’s eyes darted away, his gaze finding the ground.
Anger surged, hot and bright, then something else—a cold, strange stillness—settled over me. Abril tightened her small hand around my own, her fingers digging into the fabric of my coat.
